


The Spaces In Between

by Bajada



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Cas opens up a lot, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Heaven & Hell, Love at First Sight, M/M, Memory Loss, Not A Happy Ending, Pain, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Soul rebuilding, Survival, True Love, angel!cas - Freeform, dean does too, human!dean, lots of love, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bajada/pseuds/Bajada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happened to Dean and Castiel in the moment Cas pulled Dean from the pit of Hell. Something happened to them while Cas was rebuilding Dean from nothing back into who he was. Something happened to the angel and the human as they were stitched together, piece by piece with soul and grace:</p>
<p>They fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic E.V.E.R. I appreciate all comments and criticisms, but please try to be constructive and not cruel (also, compliments are always welcome and appreciated). This fic is unbeta'd.
> 
> This is just a little headcanon of mine finally coming to fruition. When I say "slow burn" in the tags, I mean slow like rust forming, this is going to be a long one, so strap in.
> 
> I make a solemn promise right now to NOT abandon this fic and leave anyone who decides to take this journey with me on the edge of a WIP cliff.
> 
> Thank you in advance for reading. Let's get this party started!

In the beginning, God created all things. He created space and all the celestial bodies within it. The planets and moons and suns and stars, comets and black holes and asteroids and nebulae.

He created Earth and everything upon it. He created water and wind and clouds and trees, and all the creatures that walked the land from the fleas on the backs of the shrews, to the great mammoths of the ice age, to the devastating predators of the modern age.

He then created Heaven and the Angels that would inhabit it, for God was lonely in the great expanse of the cosmos, and he had plans for which we would require their assistance. First, God created the archangels, Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Together, these four angels became the guardians of the heavens. They loved their father and were devoted to him with all their being, none moreso than Lucifer, who was the most beautiful of all the Angels, and whose heart was filled with light and adoration. Michael was the most powerful of the four, and would come to command the highest ranks of the armies of heaven in the many battles they would fight against the legions of hell and darkness. Gabriel was the Trickster. He reveled in the laughter of his father and siblings, and his power came from joy. Gabriel's heart was filled with happiness, and while not as mighty as Michael in raw strength, he would still come to lead a great host of heaven in time. Raphael was the gentlest and kindest of the four. He was the healer, the protector, the saint. He would come to protect those who found the word of God, the prophets and the seers, and he would do so by any means necessary.

After creating His archangels, God created the lesser class of angels. These angels were warriors, messengers, healers and guardians of Earth. While less powerful than the Archangels, they were no less devoted to their Father and felt no less love for him or their older siblings. Chief among these lesser angels was one named Castiel. He adored his brothers and his father, and he would spend millenia watching them, idolizing them, and doing all he could to please them. God looked upon Castiel with more hope than all the rest, for God writes stories filled with conflict and confusion, yet a hero will always arise.

For a time, the Archangels and their brethren occupied heaven and soared amongst the clouds of Earth and the great expanses of the cosmos, and they were content. Then one day God called all his children together in the grandest hall of heaven and bade them look upon his newest and most perfect creation. And so the Angels turned their attention towards Earth, whereupon a new creature emerged; man.

God said, "Look upon man, my angels. They are my greatest creation yet. They are imperfect. They are weak. They are flawed. They are mortal. And yet I have given them a series of gifts with which they will shape this world of Earth on which they have been placed. They can feel fear and pain and loss and hate. They can cry and mourn and regret and hurt. But they can also love. They can forgive and empathize and care and be kind and just and good. They can comfort and learn and heal and laugh and feel pure, innocent joy. They can become ill. They can be injured, and they can die. But most importantly of all, they can choose. I have given them something called free will. They do not answer to me unless they make the choice to, and they will live and breathe on Earth as they see fit, according to their choices."

The Angels looked on God with reverence, for only their father could have created a being that was so perfect in the image of the love that he had given to them.

God smiled "Man is still young. They are infants in the span of the universe I have created. And so you will watch over them. You will love them as the children that they are and you will keep them safe, but you shall not interfere, for that would defeat the purpose of free will. They cannot know for certain that angels exist, for your true forms are too great for them to behold. You will observe them, learn their ways, and come to feel love for them as you feel love for me. Now go, my angels. Gaze upon them and love."

And God dismissed his host of angels, however he beckoned to Castiel before he could leave the hall. Castiel had become a great warrior, though he was the youngest of all the Angels, and God held him in high regard, yet had never before granted him private audience. Castiel kneeled before his Father, his golden armor, forged in the fires of the sun shining brilliantly in the power of God's presence and his own pure grace.

"Dear Castiel." God said warmly. "You have always been so loyal, so eager to please me and do my bidding, unquestioning, undoubtful, unerring in your adherence to orders. The perfect soldier."

Castiel, eyes already averted, tried to look away even more. "Your compliments are unjustified Father. I am an angel of heaven, the same as my brothers and sisters. We serve your will with nothing but devotion."  
God smiled upon him. "Be that as it may, young Castiel, you are special. Do you remember when you were young?"

"I remember everything, Father." Castiel said.

"Do you remember, long ago, standing on a beach with your brothers, when Earth itself was still new, and you were but a fledgling angel, barely able to fly?"

Castiel smiled at the memory. "I do Father. It was my first trip to Earth. Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael went with me. We stood in the shallow water of the ocean and watched the waves roll across the sand. Raphael told me that the water moved because of the forces of Earth's moon acting with the rotation of the planet itself as it moved through the cosmos. It was fascinating. Gabriel was splashing Michael and eventually it was just Lucifer and I on the beach. There was a fish in the water. It was a strange creature, and I was young. I moved towards it, but Lucifer stopped me. He said 'Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.' We returned to heaven shortly after. I never knew what he meant." Castiel finished recounting the story to his Father, though he knew he didn't have to. Father knew it just as well as he did.

"That's right, dear Castiel. Man has already gone through many trials on their way into existence. The journey from fish to bipedal and sentient being has been arduous and difficult, but they have made it." God appreached Castiel and bid him rise. Castiel gazed upon God and felt warm, radiant love course through him.

"You are special, Castiel." God repeated. "In time, you will come to know how truly important you are to the story of man. Retain your position within your garrison. You've earned the honour of that command. Soon enough, heaven and Earth will need you more than you will know."

"I-I don't understand Father." Castiel said. "What must I do? How will I know when I am needed?"

"You will know, Castiel. When The Righteous Man falls to pieces in hell, and the first seal of the apocalypse is broken, you will know, and you will fulfill your destiny."

And then God was gone. Castiel cried out for his Father. The host of angels returned to the great hall of heaven and called for him, but God was nowhere to be found.

The Angels wept. God had abandoned them. They had lost their Father. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael urged them to follow the orders that God had given them before he disappeared; to observe and protect man as He had bidden them, and many of them followed the three archangels to Earth. But Lucifer did not agree.

He blamed Castiel and humanity for their Father's absence. He had loved Father more deeply than the rest, and He had still left. Lucifer refused to bow to humanity, or love them as he had lived his Father. They were weak. They were flawed. They did not deserve the Earth, the beautiful place that God had created and poured his heart into. And so he rebelled. There were others that followed him, and darkness and hatred crept into their hearts. They were corrupted. Evil descended upon creation, and the remaining archangels fought against Lucifer and his host of damned brethren. In the final battle, Michael defeated Lucifer and cast him out of heaven, banishing him to the deepest pit of Hell, the place between Earth and Heaven where darkness lay in wait. Hell had been created the moment God had created Heaven, for He had made the universe in balance, and balance shall always remain.

For thousands of years, the Angels walked amongst humanity, observing and protecting them as God had commanded. Sometimes, their acts could not go unnoticed, and humanity began to worship God and pray to Him and His angels. Yet still God did not return. The Angels had given up hope of ever seeing Him again, and so they continued their work, as God had intended.

Castiel did as he had been told. He maintained his garrison on Earth. He remembered what Father had told him, still not understanding His final words, yet never forgetting. Until one day, Castiel awoke as if from a dream.

He assembled his forces and marched through the gates of Hell.

It was time to save The Righteous Man.


	2. Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Uriel venture deep into Hell to find the Righteous Man, whose soul is calling out to Cas, and who I held beyond their reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my first chapter! I hope you enjoy this next installment! :)

 Thousands of years had passed since that day when God left, and now, Castiel and his assembled forces descended into the tunnel that would lead them to the pit of Hell. His second in command, Uriel, followed closely behind him. Their host was 30 strong, all the Angels with him were battle-hardened and had been at his side since the great battle with Lucifer. Castiel had been on the battlefield when Michael had defeated their brother and cast him from heaven. He had watched as Lucifer fell. He had battled demons, other fallen angels, and monsters the likes of which he had never imagined since his brother's descent into darkness, yet still, Castiel’s apprehension at the task ahead of them could nearly be felt in the air.

   As they crept down the corridor, Castiel felt a hand on his shoulder through his armor. He turned and made eye contact with Uriel, who pointed ahead. In the distance, Castiel could just barely discern a faint flickering light. Not warm like the glow of grace that surrounded him, but a cold, sickly light, like the glow of a fire made of nothing but gasoline and garbage. Where the light was emanating from, they could just hear the beginning sounds of the screaming souls. Souls that were damned to be tortured in Hell for the rest of eternity. Castiel’s heart broke. He wanted to save them all, not just the righteous man he had come for...

   Castiel motioned to the rest of his battalion to assemble around him, and as they did, he received a reassuring glance from Uriel, and a pat on the shoulder.

   “You have all fought many battles, and there is no doubt in my mind that you are the strongest angels heaven can offer.” Castiel said to his brothers and sisters who surrounded him. Despite being the youngest angel, he had proved himself to them. They would follow him anywhere. “That being said, you should know that many of us will not survive this mission. We are about to face the legions of Hell head on, and the probability of success is extremely low.” He paused and took a deep breath. “It has been an honour fighting with you all.” He said as he drew his heavenly blade from its sheath.

   “And it will be an honour to die with you.”  Responded Uriel as he and the rest of the Angels drew their blades as well.

   Castiel smiled and turned. As he did he unfurled his great wings and let the power of his grace swirl around him. He loved flying, and he loved his wings. He had always found then beautiful. Though his brothers had wings of gold and shimmering prismic colour,  Castiel's were pure white, and in the light of his grace they showed soft hues of blue. He took a breath and allowed himself to lift slightly off the floor of the tunnel. It wasn't large, but it allowed him to feel the sensation of flying, one last time.

   Castiel surged forwards, his wings carrying him towards the fires of Hell, towards the agony of souls. He let out a bellowing cry of power as his host of angels entered the cavern of the pit and was struck by the heat and pain and depth of it all.

   They stood upon a precipice, high above an endless pit of swirling fire and darkness. The smell of blood and burning flesh and hot metal assaulted his nostrils, and he would later recall that smell and it would bring him to feel anger and fear. Around him, his angels too were struck by the agony that surrounded them. Gazing into the pit, they could see the souls if humans, forever damned to eternal torment being made to suffer as they were slowly flayed open by the demons and other denizens of the darkness.

   At the battle cries of the Angels and the horns of heaven they blew, the demons turned their faces upwards and snarled en masse. There were hundreds of them, all covered in the blood of the humans they were slowly driving to madness, all grotesque and terrifying, even to the Angels who now confronted them in their own domain. They began their ascent up the walls of the pit towards the heavenly creatures, intent on their destruction.

   Castiel turned one final time to his warriors, his brothers and sisters, his family, and said "This is Father's will."

   And then, carried on glorious wings of white, he plunged into the pit, as Uriel blew once more through the horn of heaven he carried and the rest followed, blades in hand.

   Castiel met the first creature head on, a demon of incredible size and fury, and hacked at it with his blade. It barely pierced the creature's twisted flesh, and he dodged a swipe from its blood stained claws, before dropping to the ground and rolling underneath the creature, jabbing the blade up into its belly with all the strength of heaven. It cracked through the shell-like flesh and the demon screeched an ear splitting cry as it tumbled downwards. Castiel continued his descent, dispatching more and more creatures with varying degrees of success. In an engagement with a particularly large, serpentine demon, he miscalculated the the reach of his blade and took a long, sharp fang directly in his forearm. He snarled and slashed his blade up into the creature's mouth, I'm paling its brain and sending it too tumbling off the edge of the pit.

   He looked around. He could see his brothers and sisters engaged in various skirmishes throughout the cavern, flashes of grace and screaming demons telling him where the rest of the host was fighting. He wondered for a moment if any had been lost, before a voice pulled him back to the moment.

   "Castiel! Behind you!"

   He turned just in time to see another demon that had taken advantage of his distraction and had been sneaking up behind him fall with three arrows in its back. He looked up and saw, hovering behind it, bow draw and wings spread wide, Nithael. He smiled at his sister as she dropped next to him.

   "You should not lower your guard so quickly in hell, Castiel." She chastised him.

    "You should show me some respect, Nithael. How many others have descended this far?" He asked.

   "Not many, though Uriel waits at the bottom of the pit for you. He claims to have found entrance to the chamber where what we seek is being held." She turned away from him and set her feet apart on the sizzling rock as a score more demons emerged from the fires above and started towards them. "You should go, Castiel. Uriel will be waiting." Without another word, Nithael lept into the air and engaged the demons above. With bow and sword flashing in the light of the hell fire,  she truly was a glorious spectacle to behold, a fierce warrior on the path of righteousness, and Castiel looked upon her fondly for a moment before continuing downwards.

   It wasn't long before the battle sounds receded above him and he began to wonder if Nithael had been mistaken, for not only was Uriel nowhere to be seen, but the frequency of his encounters with the hellish creatures had also begun to decrease. He slowed his pace and gripped his blade tighter, alert to all that was near. Around him the souls of the damned reached forward and grasped at him, clawing at his wings, grasping at his feet, crying, pleading with broken voices and eyes that had long forgotten what it was like to gaze upon beauty. Their requests for mercy were denied however, as Castiel had only one soul he was here to save.

   He reached the bottom of the pit and realized he was alone. The rest of his garrison was either still engaging above, or had fallen in battle. At his feet he could see that, indeed, some of them had fallen, as the burned impressions of their wings still soldered on the rock. He counted 12 fallen and felt an anger rise in his chest; Suziel, Leilandri, Tereculus, Phadriel, Oronius, Xesial, Hamanael, Josiah, Ophelia, Rumariel, Hedrial, and Nanael, all fallen. He cursed the demons under his breath and prayed the the soul of this Righteous Man was worth the losses they had sustained today.

   He looked around the expanse of barren, smoldering rock and ash for Uriel. To his left he saw a small passageway descending even further down into darkness. Something pulled him towards the depths and he walked carefully into the void. As his eyes adjusted to a new layer of darkness, Castiel saw that the passageway curved downwards to his right. He followed it, footsteps echoing ominously off the rock walls, which had been clawed and scraped at by the exoskeleton and violent appendages of the monsters that inhabited Hell.

   He moved carefully over the rough hewn rock under his feet, avoiding the pits and chasms that seemed to open before him into further depths of fire and blackness. Castiel marveled at his Father's darkest creation and wondered how such horrors could have come from the same creator who had built the very embodiment of beauty that was Heaven and Earth. As he rounded the final bend in the tunnel, he saw Uriel, standing before a great wall of fire that blocked the passage ahead.

   Castiel approached Uriel, raising his hands in peace and sheathing his blade.

   "What is this?" Uriel asked in awe as Castiel reached his side.  "We were to fight the legions of hell and rescue the righteous man before he can start the apocalypse. This wasn't in the brochure."

   "I never provided you with any kind of pamphlet detailing our mission, Uriel." Castiel deadpanned.  "These are the Judgement Fires. They burn at the entrance to each circle of Hell. Those who pass through them are further damned to the pits and tortures of the deepest levels of Hell. The demons we faced above are the lesser classes of monsters. Those we will face from here on will be much more powerful and fearsome, and the souls we will encounter will become even more warped and further from our ability to save.

   Castiel turned and looked at Uriel. "The Righteous Man is beyond this gate." He took a step towards the fires but was stopped by Uriel once again placing a hand on his shoulder.

   "Castiel..." he said, "you don't know what will happen if you pass through those flames. Angels were not made to enter Hell. Our forces are weakened as it is. Many of our comrades have fallen and we are not as strong here as we are above." Uriel looked solemnly at Castiel. "Perhaps...perhaps Father was mistaken? Perhaps you misunderstood His will..." His eyes pleaded silently with his brother not to continue, to return with him to heaven, to leave the soul of the Righteous Man to suffer.

   Castiel shook his head. "Father was very clear. He said I would know what to do. I must pass through the flames..." he looked straight into Uriel's eyes. "Alone."

   Uriel stared at Castiel, his youngest brother, his commander, and his eyes were filled with sadness. He knew his brother was stubborn beyond compare and that once his mind was made up, nothing could stop him. "I could go with you?" he said, though he knew it was in vain.

   Castiel smiled. "No, Uriel. Something calls to me through the fire. I will face my judgement, and I will save the Righteous Man. Find those who have not fallen. Take them home. Serve our brothers and sisters well in Heaven, and please, should I fail, tell them that I tried. In service of God and Heaven, I tried." He placed a reassuring hand on Uriel's shoulder for a moment, then turned and walked towards the fires. He could feel their raging heat on his face, the fury of Hell's judgement whipping around him like a perverse wind, yet he did not falter.

   Suddenly, a great bellowing cry erupted from the tunnel behind him. He turned to face the oncoming threat of the demons, hand automatically gravitating towards his blade, but Uriel stepped to the center of the tunnel, blocking the way between him and the demons.

   "Carry on, Castiel. Return to us in Heaven when Father's will is done. We shall not rest until you are home once more." Uriel drew his blades and readied himself for the attack. Castiel nodded, and turned back towards the searing fires. He took a final steadying breath and stepped into the vacuous expanse of fire, and continued, until the battle cries of his brother were no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, to clarify, I feel as though the demons of hell need to pose at least SOME threat to the Angels, otherwise it wouldn't be such a big deal that Castiel rescued Dean. Point being, the bonds of Hell weaken their angelic powers enough that they are able to sustain injury (Cas' arm), and in fact be killed by the demons in their true forms (not possessing humans). The demons who have lived under the bonds of hell for eons are at nearly equal strength with the Angels there, because if they weren't and if they didn't present at least some problem withe matching their strength, the Angels probably would have gone and just wiped them out entirely eons ago.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment with any suggestions or anything you may have for me! They make me happy :) kudos are like candy!


	3. Alastair's Realm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel travels through the second circle of Hell and finally finds the soul of the Righteous Man, but is he too late to save him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They keep getting longer! I'm so sorry, I'm trying to keep them to similar lengths, these Chapters just sort of have a mind of their own and don't want to have nice, natural end points until they're nearly 2k words long... thanks for continuing on with me, I promise some real character development soon.

Everything was burning.

   Castiel could feel nothing but heat and pain as he pushed himself through the vortex of fire that claimed the space between the second level of hell and the first. Time became an immeasurable concept and though his passage only took about a minute, it began to feel like days had passed since leaving Uriel. As he pushed forwards, he could hear the voices of souls again, still begging to be saved, to be set free, but he could also hear...laughter?

   Mingling with the cacophony of restless souls was the unmistakable noise of laughter. Sick, nasal, and high pitched, but there nontheless, Castiel's stomach began to turn at what that meant; the demons in this circle of Hell were not just mindless monsters performing the tasks of torture for no reason, they were enjoying the destruction of souls. They were laughing at the pain they could inflict. His heart broke. Would the soul of the Righteous Man even be able to be saved if it was these demons that had been torturing him for all this time? How broken would he have become?

   He emerged from the fires and fell immediately to his knees. His looked at his hands, charred and blistered from he heat and as the skin began to creep back together, becoming whole again, he spoke a silent payer that his grace was still strong enough here to heal himself with. He stood shakily,  weak from the exertion of traveling through the concentrated evil of the fire and once again allowed his wings to erupt from his back.

   Pain the likes of which he had never felt shot through his body. Every once of him seared with agony and he stumbled forward a few steps. He allowed the tip of one of his wings to curl forwards around himself and his breath hitched in his chest.

   His wings, those glorious feathers of pure white, which Castiel had always held in such high regard and been so proud of when standing next to his brothers in Heaven,  we're no more. In place of beautiful, soft white feathers now hung scorched black abominations. He reached out and touched the tip of his wing sadly. They were whole, not burned off like the flesh of his hands had been, buy they were now jet black, burned dark as the night sky by the hell fire. He extended his grace as much as he dared, trying to heal his burnt wings. The cool blue glow encircled them, rippled through the feathers with raw power, cascaded over the joints and around the planes of downy softness, but to no avail. Castiel pulled back his grace and a single tear rolled down this cheek. The damage had been done and grace could not undo it. His wings would remain black for the rest of eternity.

   Gathering his composure with a final deep breath, he willed himself to focus on his surroundings. He still had to find the soul he was sent to save and remove them both from hell. Looking around, Castiel noted almost immediately that this circle of Hell was much less corporeal than the last had been. Whereas before there had been rock walls and cages and solid, tangible aspects the were defining of "hell", here there was void. Everything was bathed in a sickly green light, and while fire still burned with a vengeance in every corner of his vision, there were also electric currents of energy crackling through the clouds of putrid smoke. Castiel was reminded of the inside of a thunder cloud on Earth, though the symbolism was lost in the fact that there was no one else to appreciate it.

   He began to walk through the swirling mass of energy, hand still on the hilt of his blade fastened at his hip, following the call of the Righteous Man's soul that still pulled at his heart. His arm was still injured from the encounter with the demon fang, and while no longer ripped and bleeding, it still pained him. He dared not use more of his grace to try and heal himself. While repairing the burned flesh of his hands had been nothing, attempting to reverse the damage done by demon fangs and venom was entirely different, and he worried he would not have enough grace to fight, let alone return home if he attempted it.

   Out of the miasma ahead, Castiel could discern what appeared to be thick chains and hooks hanging and extending upwards. Between these chains hung the indisputable forms of human bodies, some writing in pain, others hanging limply, chains just barely shuddering from their breaths. He could see blood dripping from the hooks that were impaled through their bodies, and a score of humanoid demons standing in front of them, laughing in the face of their despair.

   Castiel felt the pull against his heart grow stronger as he approached the demons and their toys. For that is all the souls of the humans were to these creatures, objects used to satisfy their most perverse desires. His blood began to boil. Which of these poor, bleeding souls was the Righteous Man he was supposed to save? Which one would he have to pull the chains from in order to raise back up into the light?

   As he got closer to the throng, one of the demons turned and sneered at him.

   "Well, well, well, look what we have here." He said, his voice laced with sickness, audible even through the slight lisp he sported, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to drive his blade through the demon's chest. The rest of the demons turned to face him as he spoke again. "A wee little angel come to save the souls of the damned." The rest of the demons laughed. "Sorry Angel, looks like you've been injured by my pets up above. If you can't handle them, you've got no hope of handling us." He spread his arms wide, gesturing at those who stood around him.

   "Who are you?" Castiel asked. He appeared to be a man, but the unmistakable stench of demon rose off him like a cloud of poison.

   "Alastair," He responded. "Coordinator of Torture, Penance, and Pain. I know, it's a wordy job title, but when you're so damn good at what you do, well...the big wigs just keep asking for more." He smiled at Castiel, showing a row of sunken teeth. "Tell me, Angel, why are you here?"

   Castiel balked at the confidence of this demon. He had to remind himself that he had no dominion over Hell, and angels did not descend this far into the realm of darkness. He was alone, out numbered, and not at full power.

   "My name is Castiel. I'm an Angel of the Lord." he stated simply.

   The demons jeered at him and began to shuffle anxiously around Alastair. They wanted to fight, to put this intruder in his place. To show him that the children of God had no place in hell if it wasn't strung up on those chains under their knives and claws and manipulations.

   "Yeah, I got that." Alastair chuckled, raising a hand to silence those around him. "But you can't really expect me to believe God just wanted to check in, make sure we're all playing nice, eh? So I'll ask you again. Why are you here?" Any of the fake charm he had been using to try and trap Castiel into a sense of comfort was abandoned and he narrowed his eyes at the angel.

   "I am on a mission from God." Castiel stated simply. "I have come to save the Righteous Man."

   The demons around Alastair shuffled an muttered nervously. It was as if Castiel had released a swarm of mosquitoes into their midst they way they began to wring their hands together and rub the backs of their necks. For a moment, even Alastair's face flashed a look of concern before reverting to its original, confident veneer.

   "The Righteous Man, hey?" He said. "Interesting. Alright Angel, tell ya what? I'm willing to make you a little deal." He smiled at Castiel, which caused something deep the the pit of his stomach to churn in the most unpleasant way. "If you can find the soul you seek and raise him up without me having to see or hear about it, you can take have him. No resistance from us."

   Castiel narrowed his eyes at Alastair. "Just like that?"

   "Just like that."

   "What's the catch?" Castiel asked suspiciously. He didn't trust this demon any more than the rest, probably less actually.

   "The catch, Angel, is that I don't think it's going to be nearly as easy as you imagine." Alastair smiled at Castiel and turned to the demons surrounding him. "Come one boys, lots of work to be done still. Souls aren't going to torture themselves you know."  And with that, he turned back to the racks of souls that were chained up, ready and waiting.

   Castiel stood for a moment, dumbfounded. There's no way it should be this simple, but he wasn't going to turn down a grant of amnesty, even if it was from a demon. He turned and began walking deeper into the swirling clouds of Hell, when he heard Alastair's voice call out to him again.

   "I'd hurry if I were you Angel. Like I said, I don't want to see or hear about you again while you're down here. Hell's a big place and all but let's just say I move pretty quickly."

   Castiel increased his pace. So that was the real catch. He'd have to stay ahead of Alastair and his roving band of evil,  as well as not upset any other souks or demons along the way. He sighed, holding his injured arm close to his chest. At least he wouldn't have to attempt a battle with such a large group of demons all at once.

   He continued through the thick vapors of Hell, avoiding the electric crackles of energy and any areas with a visibly high concentration of demons, all the while following as best he could the pull of his heart. He knew it was the Righteous Man calling to him, but he began to question how someone supposedly 'righteous' could have descended so far into Hell. 

   Castiel was beginning to get desperate. He could feel the pull on his heart getting stronger and stronger with every step, yet he could also sense Alastair and his demons closing the gap Castiel had so diligently put between them. He needed to locate the soul now, or the chances of his success would all but disappear. As he continued his search, he noticed the ground sloping upwards slightly. He climbed the untangible incline and as he reached the top of what he assumed to be the edge of a cliff, he found himself facing another set of racks hung with human souls. In front of them stood a lone figure, his back to Castiel, an evil looking blade dangling from his hand

   Castiel approached cautiously. The aching pull of his heart was stronger than ever, and he knew he had found the Righteous Man. He extended his hand towards the man, and grasped his shoulder, turning him around to face him. As the demon - no, the man, for this was the clearly the soul Castiel had come to save - looked into his eyes, he felt something shatter in him.

   Eyes of brilliant green pierced into Castiel, and his mind failed to equate that colour to any he had seen before in Heaven or on earth. In all of creation, he could not recall a similar hue that came close to the beauty of this green, and Castiel froze as the man continued to stare at him.

   "Who are you?" the man asked, confusion laced in his voice. "What's happening to me?" Now that confusion was etched with fear, and Castiel gripped the man's shoulder tighter, relief coursing through him as he attempted to transfer it to the man in front of him.

   "My name is Castiel." he said calmly. "I'm an Angel of the Lord. I've come to take you home."

   For a moment, the look that passed through the man's eyes was so peaceful, so full of worship and thankfulness at the word 'home' that Castiel felt something inside himself he could only compare to the feeling of love he had felt the last time he had looked upon his Father. Yet even as he stared, that feeling was replaced by a horrible sinking loss as the eyes, which only a moment before had mesmerized Castiel with their beauty, turned an infinite shade of black, and a sick twisted smile spread across the man's face.

   "You're too late, Angel." The man said, his voice growing suddenly deeper as he spoke. "Been here for a while. Got a better offer. That Alastair, he can be, uh, pretty persuasive when he wants to be." The man stepped back from Castiel and gestured at the racks behind him with the blade still in his hand.

   "Ya see, it takes a lot to stay on one of these things for very long. Takes some serious will power. You gotta be a real tough customer to resist the temptation of comin' down." He walked to the nearest rack, where the soul of a woman was dangling there, crying. The man walked behind her and leaned down close to her ear. He liked slowly, sickly up the side of her neck and she started to beg for him to stop, beg for it to end. "What's that, sweetheart? You want me to stop? Wanna make all this pain go away?" He dragged the blade across her flesh, all the while never breaking eye contact with Castiel. "Shh,  shh shh, shhShe,  " he crooned softly in her ear, brushing her hair from her face. "You've only been here a few days, I had 40 years to live through, you can stand a little more."

   "You are the Righteous Man. I am here to return you to Earth. God has a plan for you." Castiel said through gritted teeth. This wasn't right. How could he save this man? He had become a demon! But something in Castiel's heart told him to carry on, to push forwards and try.

   The man laughed. "God? Righteous Man? Listen up Angel, I dunno what kind of crazy shit they've been telling you up in Heaven,  but I sure as hell ain't no righteous man. I'm Dean frickin' Winchester. I've done a lot of bad things topside, including sell my own soul to a demon. Explains why I'm down here now, doesn't it?" he chuckled again  "Far as God goes, well, I guess I don't believe in fairy tales anymore. Way I see it, if there really was a God, half of these sorry son's of bitches wouldn't even be here." He returned to stand in front of Castiel and smiled wickedly again, looking him up and down slowly, biting his lower lip. "So tell me Angel, why would you wanna save my soul in the first place?"

   Castiel glared at the man in front of him. He didn't even want to be saved. As Castiel opened his mouth the say something, to tell the man he could remain here in hell and burn for his sins for the rest of eternity, the man's eyes changed again. They returned to that glorious green and looked at Castiel with pain and fear.

   "Please...Cas...help me. I gave in, I gave up. I couldn't take it anymore, I...I took his offer. I came down off the rack." Tears began to spill out from the corners of the man's eyes as he clutched at Castiel desparate ly clinging to the angel. "I'm becoming like them. I can't stop it. Please...take me home. I gotta get back to Sammy...please..." His eyes flashed back to black again and he smirked, letting out a bellowing cry that shook the very bones of Castiel's frame.

   "Tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you I didn't wanna hear from you again, angel." Came the familiar drawl behind Castiel, who turned away from the man, Dean, slowly and faced Alastair. "I told you it wouldn't be as easy as you thought." He stood with his arms crossed, his gang of torturous demons behind him, sneering at Castiel as Dean still clung to his arm.

   "You didn't think I wouldn't take advantage of having the great hunter, Dean Winchester on my rack, did you?" he looked at Castiel and chuckled. "Come on Angel, you can't be that stupid."

   "What have you done to him?" asked Castiel still clenching his teeth.

   "I made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Alastair said. "40 years is a long time to stay on the rack, so I made him a deal, same as you. Oh he held out for a long time. Used some pretty creative language to tell me where I could shove my offer too. But in the end," he walked over to Dean and slung an arm over his shoulder, and the two smiled fondly at each other, "he took me up on it. They always do."

   Something in Castiel's stomach twisted uncomfortably and he suddenly felt I'll. His heart began to ache even more, and he narrowed his eyes at Alastair, who laughed in his face. Castiel turned his face to Dean and noticed that the man had changed back to human now and was beginning to shiver in fear at the feel of Alastair's arm around him.

   Without a second thought Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean's upper arm again, just below his shoulder. He unfurled his wings again, ignoring the pain from having them scorched black, and looked at Alastair. 

   "This isn't an offer or a deal, Alastair. This is God's will."

   With as much remaining grace as he could muster, Castiel disassembled himself and Dean on a molecular level and transported them through time to the safest place he could think of, a place between the world's of Earth and Heaven and hell, far from the reach of Alastair or any of the other angels or humans or demons or anyone. As they traveled through the expanse of the void between space and time, Castiel reached out with the mental link he shared with his brothers and sisters.

   He had done it. He had traveled into Hell, defeated legions of demons beside his brothers, passed through the Judgement Fires,  confronted the demon Alastair, and pulled the Righteous Man from the pit before he had broken completely and become a fully formed demon. His elation and relief and happiness were so strong that he cast it across the link, extending his raw emotion to his brethren with the cry of one sentence that could be heard far and wide across the reaches of the universe, by all angels, fallen or otherwise.

   "Dean Winchester is saved!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea behind the wings thing came from a smaller head cannon inside this larger one I have that Castiel was the embodiment of purity (white) until he had to retrieve Dean in hell, at which point he began to have doubts and fears and emotions, hence why the Judgement Fires burned his wings black as an expression of his doubts.
> 
> Also, there were no demon battles this chapter because in my mind, the seven circles of hell would reflect the seven deadly sins. The first circle was wrath, lots of violence and fighting. The second was pride, with Alastair being an arrogant prick about how wonderful he was that he could just ignore an angel of heaven and not have an issue. I dunno, it doesn't make sense, but it's my story so I'm okay with it lol.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, kudos are like candy! :)


	4. Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel explains what has happened to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write Dean as true to canon as possible. Castiel, on the other hand, has decided he wants to be his own angel and will write himself (stubborn s.o.b.)

   The first thing Dean noticed when he awoke was that he was cold, and that was the most glorious feeling in the world. In life, Dean had hated the cold, had always been the first one to crank on the thermostat or steal the blankets, but now after so long burning in the fires of Hell,  the fact that he was cold made him want to cry with joy

   the second thing Dean noticed was that he couldn't see or move, and that immediately made him panic. Had he been returned to the rack? Was he once again bound in chains? Was the cold that only moments ago had brought him joy another torture ploy of Alastair's to give him hope? His mind started frantically searching for an explanation, and he tried desperately to open his eyes, until a feeling of calm washed over him and a deep voice brought him back from his panicked thoughts.

   "You are safe, Dean Winchester. Be at peace."

   "Where am I?" He asked. "Who are you?"

   "Try to remember." The voice said, waves of serenity still rippling through him.

   "Cas?" He asked tentatively, not daring to believe that the fading memory of the glorious angel who had touched him in Hell was anything more than a fever dream.

   "Yes." Castiel responded calmly. "You have been delivered from the pit by the will of God. You are safe." he repeated. His voice was rough, cracked and laced with exhaustion, but Dean knew he spoke the truth and this was not another ruse created by the demons to further break him.

   "Where am I?" he asked again. "Why can't I see? Why can't I move?"

   Castiel paused for a moment before answering, his voice filled with a sadness that immediately broke Dean's heart. "When I removed you from Hell, I had to cast out the impurities of your soul, the parts that had begun to turn you into a demon like them," he started, choosing his words carefully. "Your soul had been broken by the evils you encountered and the impurities had been inserted by Alastair to keep you whole, usable. Had he not done so, you would have become as broken as the rest of the souls on the rack." Castiel paused again, allowing Dean a moment to process what he was saying before continuing.

   "The demon pieces held your soul together long enough for me to save you, but they weren't really a part of you,  and therefore they could not be saved...when I cast them out, your true soul, everything that is you, shattered into a thousand fragments. I was able to bring them all together, but..." he paused again. "You are broken, Dean. I have not yet rebuilt you. I can, I will, but it's going to take time. It requires me to manually put you back together using my own grace as glue. I did not realize it would be this arduous of a task, nor that you would be so thoroughly shattered. I am sorry, Dean."

   He pulled back from his explanation, giving the man time to try and comprehend what had happened to him.

   "So I can't see or move because I'm not really here?" Dean asked.

   "That is correct."

   "Son of a bitch...so you're gonna turn me into some weird, angelic, human, hybrid, Frankenstein soul, yeah? And that's going to fix me?" Dean asked the angel.

   "I don't understand that reference, but I assume you to be correct in your reasoning." Castiel said seriously. "The process will be long and probably quite painful. They say that mending a soul can often hurt worse that the damage that undid it in the first place, but I promise to make it as pleasant as possible for you."

   "Hey, I'm cool with a little pain sometimes, Cas. Just remember, my safeword is Poughkeepsie." Dean said, and if he'd had a physical body, he would have winked at the angel standing next to him.

   "What does a city in the state of New York have to do with your safety?" Asked Castiel.

   "I...it was a joke, Cas." Dean said slightly embarrassed and more than a little shocked at the angel's suddenly very apparent lack of understanding of human interaction.

   Castiel smiled and his voice softened slightly. "And they say the sense of humour is the first thing to die in hell." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Castiel, marveling at the soul of the man laid bare before him, and Dean, still trying to grasp what was happening to him.

   Dean cleared his throat after their brief moment of silence and broke the building awkwardness between them. "Yeah, well, uh, I guess I'm special after all aren't I? Hey, how am I even talking to you right now?" He asked. "I mean, if my soul is as broken as you say it is, and I know my physical body got ripped to shreds by those hell hounds when I died, how come you and I can talk?"

   "I opened a mind link with you when we arrived here. I can't just begin messing around with someone's soul.  I'm an Angel of the Lord, I need your express consent before I am able to begin the repairs." Castiel's voice had returned to its original deep, authoritative tone.

   "Alright, well, have at 'er then." Dean said. "Speaking of, where is 'here' anyway? I mean, I know I can't see, but I get the feeling you didn't bring my broken ass back to Earth, and we sure as hell aren't in...hell, anymore, so what? Heaven?" Dean asked.

   "No." Dean could feel Castiel's presence move away from him, but he remained close by as he spoke. "Broken souls can't enter heaven. A soul must be purified before it can pass through the pearly gates, and yours would not pass the test as it is right now. We are between world's. There is a gap in the existence between time and space. It is difficult to enter here, so I assumed it would be the safest place to rebuild you. There is also a large reserve of untapped energy here I can draw on in order to restore my grace, as I imagine the process will be quite demanding."

   "You imagine?" Dean asked, an edge of worry creeping into his voice. "Hey Cas, uh, not to rush you or anything but, how long do you think this is gonna take anyways?"

   Castiel hesitated for a moment "I don't know." he said. "The process of repairing a soul requires a delicate hand, as well as many invocations in ancient Enochian. Not to mention there's the process of stitching the various pieces of your soul together with fragments on my grace, and of course the condition  of your soul before it was ripped apart will have to factor in as well, and then we --

   "Alright, woah, Cas..." Dean cut him off. "You've never actually done this before, have you?"

   "...no"

   "Great." Dean said. "I've got a novice angel trying to perform his first miracle and I get to be the guinea pig." He sighed, and immediately regretted his words as he felt Castiel's hurt pass through their link.

   "I am sorry, Dean." He said somewhat crestfallen. "Perhaps your redemption should have been carried out by a different angel. Michael, or Gabriel. They would have been better suited to this task than I..."

   "Hey man, I didn't mean it, don't get down on yourself." Dean said, trying to reassure the angel. "I'm just happy to be out of hell. You only get so many chances at redemption and I guess I'm already doing a pretty crappy job of showing I deserve it." Had he been able to, Dean would have smiled at the feeling he got from Castiel at those words. "We'll figure it out. Make it up as we go, alright. Not often a Winchester gets to be saved. Might as well make the best of it."

   "Thank you Dean." Castiel said quietly.

   "Don't mention it, Cas. Really."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this went well, again, more exposition, but hopefully I'll be allowed to write more development in the next chapter....


	5. The First Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean relives the first memory in the puzzle of his soul and is deeply affected by its implication.

Dean opened his eyes and looked around. He had heard something in the dark, and it had woken him from sleep, a thump or bump in the night that he couldn't identify. He sat up in bed, covers falling from his pajama - clad shoulders and pooling around his waist.

   "Mommy?" Dean called out softly. He rubbed his eyes. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The orange racecar light that his daddy had hung on his wall to keep the dark away was flickering slightly as he swung his legs out over the edge of his wooden framed bed and put is bare feet on the cold wood floor.

   The door to his bedroom had been left open slightly to the hallway outside and Dean walked slowly, quietly towards it an peeked his head out. The hallway was dark, but Dean could tell something wasn't right. He needed to find his Mommy and Daddy. He stepped out of his room and started walking slowly down the hallway towards their room, being careful not to make a sound as he went so he didn't wake up his baby brother Sammy.

   As Dean passed by the door to his brother's nursery, he turned his head and looked inside. He saw a tall, dark figure standing over the crib and was suddenly gripped with a fear so intense that it froze his little legs where they stood.

   "Daddy?" Dean whispered. The figure turned around to face him and he was pierced by the gaze of two yellow eyes.

   "No." Dean heard a deep voice say inside his head. "Go back to sleep, little one. Do not get out of bed again, and be thankful you were the first born son..." The door to the nursery slowly closed, hiding the dark figure from view and leaving baby Sammy alone, trapped.

   Dean wanted to scream, wanted to cry out for his Mommy and Daddy to help Sammy. That there was a bad man in his room and they needed to come, quickly! But he couldn't. His mouth was stuck shut and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make a sound. He felt himself turn away from the door, away from his parents room, and silently walk back down the hall to his own. He went inside, closed the door with a quiet click behind him, and sat on the edge of his bed, eyes wide in silent terror. It was like he had been put under a spell, he couldn't move or talk on his own no matter how hard he fought against whatever it was that was controlling him.

   A few moments later he heard his father's footsteps come pounding up the stairs and run down the hall towards Sammy's room. At that moment, he felt the binding around his arms and legs break and he was able to move.

   He ran to his bedroom door as fast as his little legs would carry him, ripped open the door and tore down the hallway. From inside his little brother's room, he could see smoke, smell fire, and hear his dad calling out his mom's name. When he reached the door, he saw his father grabbing his brother out of the crib, the entire room almost engulfed in flames. Dean looked up and saw, stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes staring at him filled with tears, mouth pulled open in a silent scream, stomach split open and bleeding, and completely enveloped in flame, the final image of his mother.

   Dean's young brain couldn't begin to understand what was happening before a warm, wriggling bundle of blankets was being thrust into his arms and he was drawn back to reality by his father's panicked voice.

   "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

   And Dean ran. He ran faster and more carefully than he ever had before, trying to put as much distance between himself and his brother and the fire behind them as possible, because even a four-year-old knows fire is dangerous.

   "Shh, I got you Sammy, I'm not gonna drop you, promise, it'll be okay." He said to the bundle in his arms as he ran down the stairs and through the front door. He stopped in the middle of the front yard and turned back towards the house, looking up at Sam's nursery window. He could see the flickering golden light of the fire through the glass and looked for his father.

   A pair of strong arms wrapped around Dean's waist and he heard the powerful voice of his father say in his ear, "I gotcha" as he was carried away from the house, still clutching his baby brother tightly to his own small body. Seconds later, the window of the nursery shattered outwards, showering the grass below with glass as the now white hot fire ripped through the rest of their home.

   Dean could hear the sirens of the fire trucks approaching, he could feel the cold November air stinging his toes, but all he could focus on was the soft cooing of the baby in his arms, and the heaving sobs from his father's chest as they sat down on the hood of their car across the street.

   Dean watched as his home went up in flames. Neighbours started coming out of their houses to see what the noises were as the firemen arrived and started running around with their hoses. A few people came over to them to see if they were okay, but his dad just brushed them off with a sob and a wave of his hand.

   With a final shuddering breath, Dean's dad looked down at him. "Give Sam to me now, Dean. You did good." He reached out and took baby Sammy from Dean's arms and sat next to him on the hood of the car. Paramedics eventually came over and started checking them all for injuries, but Dean didn't answer any of their questions and eventually, they wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and left him alone. His dad put a hand on his shoulder for a moment and squeezed, then they both sat in silence and watched their home burn.

*****

   "Mom!" Dean cried out uncontrollably, "No! Mom come back! Mom!"

   "Dean!" Castiel's firm voice filled Dean's head, dragging him out of the memory of the night his mom died and forcing him gasping back into the reality of his life. "You have to stay focused, Dean. None of these memories are actually happening to you, they're just that; memories." He forced himself to remain composed as the intensity of Dean's emotion rushed through their mind link and hit him like a meteorite.

   "Don't! Don't you dare tell me how I'm supposed to react to that, Cas!" Dean roared at him through the waves connecting their consciousness. "I just relived the most horrible thing that's ever happened to me in perfect detail, and you want me to try and what? Tough through it? Bite me. You angel douchebags can't know how it feels, to lose your mom like that." Dean tried to pull himself together, to maintain control of what little of himself he could grasp at in his incorporeal form, and found there was slightly more of it there than last time. Something more tangible to latch onto that was definable as him.

   "On the contrary, I may know better than you believe..." Castiel said quietly.

   "What?" Dean snapped, still withdrawn from and agitated towards Castiel.

   "Nevermind." Castiel said. "It is irrelevant. What's important is putting you together again. I believe we have found the secret to our success."

   "Care to elaborate?" Dean said snarkily.

   Castiel sighed. "It would appear as though your soul is directly related to defining moments in your life, clearly starting with the most significant one, your mother being taken from you by the demon, Azazel." He paused for a moment, allowing Dean time to accept his premise. "By reliving these memories, these moments that combined to make you Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man as chosen by God himself, and by applying my grace to the fractures, I can piece your soul back together and make you whole again."

   Dean was silent for a minute, taking in what the angel had said. When he spoke again, his voice was cracked and uneven, and he chose his words carefully.

   "She used to tell us, Sammy and me, that angels were watching over us. Before bed, every night, she'd brush my hair off my face, kiss my forehead and say, 'I love you baby. Angels are watching over you. ' Where was God then, Cas? Why didn't you watch over her then? Why wasn't she protected?"

   Castiel felt something inside his chest crack at the sincerity of the broken man's words. He felt his heart wrench at the pain in his voice and the longing to feel his mother's love once more. Confusion and worry crept into his mind at the emotions Dean's words roused within him, and he tried to push them away as he answered.

   "God works in mysterious ways, Dean."

   "Bullcrap."

   Castiel frowned. "He has been absent from Heaven for a very long time. Longer than the memory of man can stretch. The angels...they haven't really done much 'watching over' people since his departure."

   "Then why pull me out of Hell?" Dean asked.

   "Because he commanded it to be so."

   "Cas, you're really not making a lot of sense here."

   Castiel sighed and dragged his hand down his face. The exhaustion of mending even this small part of Dean's soul was beginning to affect him more greatly than he had anticipated, and the strain on his grace was causing him to feel very weak, yet he pushed on, knowing he owed the man as much explanation as possible.

   "Before he disappeared from heaven,  God...He spoke to me. He told me that I would play a part in the greatest story of mankind, and that my destiny was directly tied to the fate of the Righteous Man. He said that when the time was right, I would have to be the one to find you, to save you. To protect you. Then he left. No one has heard from him since. My Father he...he was perhaps, cryptic, in his explanations of things, but when it was time to save you, I just knew. It was like God himself was pulling me towards you in Hell. His commands cannot be denied, and so I knew what I had to do. Past that, I had no idea."

   Dean huffed in frustration. "Yeah, well, still. He should have saved her instead. None of the other crap that happened to me in my miserable life would have been as bad if she'd been there."

   "True," Castiel said, "but would you be who you are otherwise? "

   Dean was silent. How could someone know the answer to a question like that?

   "It must have been difficult to lose someone you cared for so deeply in such a way." Castiel said after a long moment. "The demon Azazel could very easily have killed you too when you walked in on him. You're lucky to be alive."

    "Hold on a sec." Dean said. "How'd you know I walked in on him? I mean, it seems like common knowledge to every kind of supernatural freak under the sun how my mom died, but that...that's pretty specific."

   Castiel blinked in surprise. "I shared in your memory too, Dean." He said. "The bonding of grace and soul means that every thought, every feeling you have while reliving these moments, I experience too. I have to say, even through just this one exercise, the range of emotion a human, even a child, is capable of feeling is astounding."

   Dean felt the heat of embarrassment rise up in him as Castiel spoke. "Wait, so you're telling me you can see everything I see? In all of my memories?"

   "Only the important ones we need to bind your soul. Those of lesser significance should adhere to the grace of their own accord without our having to delve too deeply into them"

   Dean groaned. "Great. So now I'm sharing my most personal intimate moments with some angel-dude I just met. Perfect."

   "I warned you the process would be painful Dean." Castiel said flatly. "It was my understanding that being able to share one's feelings is considered therapeutic amongst humans."

   Dean was suddenly very uncomfortable. "Yeah, but it's not something I'm generally first in line for, Cas" he said.

   "I could unbind my consciousness from yours if you would prefer." Castiel said. "We would no longer be able to communicate, but I would also not be intruding on your memories."

   Dean didn't even think about his answer before it was out of his mouth. "No, don't do that." He paused for a second and then said, "Y'know, I'm gonna have questions, besides, not all my defining memories can be bad, right?"

   "No." Castiel said. "I believe you to be a generally good human being, and therefore your memories must mostly be pure."

   "Well, I'll tell you Cas, pure ain't the word I'd use." Dean felt warmth rise in him as he tried to remember fragments of his forgotten life. "But yeah, maybe they aren't all bad."

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know that these are not biblically canonical classes of angels (i.e. there are waaaay more; seraphim, cherubim, etc), and I know that this is a HUGELY simplified (and mostly inaccurate) depiction of the story of creation, but I just wanted to make it work so please don't be mad...I'll add more tags as the story progresses, but what's there now will definitely eventually happen. Thanks again! Kudos are like candy! ;)


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